


Infinity

by Mercury Starlight (WoolandWater)



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Gen, Juvie, Pre-Series, Smoking, borstal, entirely unrealistic boy's prison, i mean seriously tho, introductions, love & mobsters verse, origin fic, what am i even doing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoolandWater/pseuds/Mercury%20Starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ain't used to seeing Vyv scared. In fact, I ain't never seen him like this, save once, a very, very long time ago. A time we don't talk about." ~Rory Savage, <em>Henchmen - Love & Mobsters</em></p><p>A new kid arrives to a borstal in Harlow. A lifelong friendship begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Kid

**Author's Note:**

> ### Dramatis Personae
> 
>  **The Principles:**  
>  Vyvyan Basterd, age 14, 0 out of 4 years served, aggravated assault, assault with a deadly weapon, resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer  
> Rory Savage, age 13, 0.5 out of 5 years served, armed robbery, aggravated assault, resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer
> 
>  **The Crew:**  
>  Harry Jones, age 16, 2.5 out of 3 years served, assault with a deadly weapon, arson, truancy  
> Jack Porter, age 16, 3 out of 4 years served, multiple robberies, assault  
> James "Bilk" Hannover, age 15, 2 out of 4 years served, grand larceny, conspiracy, fraud  
> Charlie Payne, age 17, 3 out of 5 years served, drug possession, drug trafficking, disorderly conduct
> 
>  **The Rest:**  
>  Bert, age ??, an arsehole  
> Nigel, age 25, a guard  
> The Head Warden  
> Various and sundry Borstal Boys and guards

The new kid arrived around two in the afternoon, driven in especially by one of the many social workers known well to the residents. Harry waved Bilk over to the crowd gathered around the front windows; new arrivals were always a pleasant diversion from the drudgery of the day. The boys peered down as the car parked, the door opened, and the new kid stepped out. He was somewhat small, the boys guessed about twelve-ish (though they'd later learn they were off by two years), his pale, strawberry blond hair shorn nearly to the scalp, his face curious, almost congenial, as though he were simply appraising his new home, not being sent to confinement. As he headed toward the front door, he carried himself with a sort of confidence rarely seen in new arrivals; shoulders thrown back, head held high, seemingly daring the world to approach.

Bilk whistled and pushed his glasses up with a finger, "Look at him - fearless. Wouldn't guess he was walkin' into a place like this."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Just 'cause you showed up with your eyes to the ground."

Jack snorted at that, "So'd you, so'd everybody. Ain't like it's an honor, gettin' shoved into this place. Kid just don't know what's comin' to him, most like. HOB'll break him, same as anybody."

HM Harlow Youth Rehabilitation and Educational Centre (known to the residents as "Hell's Own Borstal" or HOB for short) was the end of the line for juvenile offenders just north of London. It was, in fact, one of the better borstals of its day, but that wasn't saying much to the residents. It was a rough, miserable place; a prison with an "educational" focus was still a prison. The guards were harsh, the residents were short-tempered and quick to violence, and the work was hard, pointless and seemingly endless. As it was, the boys along the fringe of the crowd were constantly scanning the hall for signs of life; no one wanted to be caught shirking his afternoon chores.

The speculation began immediately. "What do we know about this kid?" a boy near the back piped up.

"Well he's a skin, that much is clear," Harry said, peering down at the kid's street clothes.

"Least he won't miss his hair," someone said, and the crowd laughed.

"I heard he pulled off a bank robbery by himself," Bilk said, and Jack pushed him.

"Are you takin' the piss? Ain't no way that kid pulled off no bank robbery, they'd throw him out before he got in the door. 'Sides, I got it on good authority he killed a pig. Just for lookin' at him funny, I heard."

"Now _you're_ takin' the piss," Harry said, "They'd try him as an adult, sure as shit. Naw, he burnt down his school, didn't want to take his exams."

"He put four boys in hospital," Charlie said quietly, but with authority. That happened to be the way Charlie said everything, "With his bare hands. For no reason at all."

In fact, Charlie wasn't far from the truth, though it was only three, he'd used a nearby chunk of concrete, and his reasons were compelling, but entirely his own. The other boys had no way of knowing this, but they quieted down and watched Charlie anyway, convinced by the strength of his conviction. About a year prior, Charlie was seen talking privately with a guard; he claimed they were distant cousins. There was a decent chance he really knew. They crowded around him.

"Four?"

"Wicked."

"But did 'e kill 'em or wha'?"

"Had to have a reason."

"The fuck is this?" Bert, everyone's least favorite arsehole guard, surprised everyone into quiet, "You think this is a fuckin' country club?" (Bert was fond of asking this question about seven times a day.) "Are you cleaning the hall or having a bloody tea party? Get back to work!"

The crowd grumbled and dispersed, their curiosity put on hold for the moment. They'd learn more about the new kid soon enough. Fifteen minutes on, they discovered just how soon.

*****

"LET GO OF ME YOU UGLY PIG BASTARDS!"

The scream and general commotion from downstairs drew everyone's attention, and they bolted for the stairwell, Bert or no. Sure enough, they were dragging the new kid down the hallway, a guard on each limb, and he was clawing and screaming like a feral cat the whole way down. Jack leaned into the crowd of boys in front of him.

"What'd he do?" he murmured under the similarly murmuring crowd.

"He slipped his guards during processin'. Caught him trying to set fire to the front bushes," someone murmured back.

Jack leaned forward again just as Bert caught up to the crowd.

"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me!" he screamed over them, matching the new kid in volume and obnoxiousness, "Don't nobody fuckin' work 'round here? You want a fuckin' pretty pink umbrella in your drink, your majesties? Move your arses!"

The crowd once again grumbled and dispersed. They'd better not let Bert get too apoplectic; he had a tendency to start throwing random boys in solitary once his face got sufficiently purple.

Nearly an hour later, Harry was scrubbing the windows on the opposite end of the wing when he looked out, lowered his rag, and just stared at something, slack-jawed. Bilk noticed first.

"Oi, Harry, what'cha doin?" By the time Bilk got to the window, he'd looked out and stopped as well. He assumed the same expression as Harry.

One by one the cleanup crew gathered once again at the window, peering down at the new kid.

He was being guarded (by two guards, even - they only usually ever bothered with one) whilst he performed his punishment down in the exercise yard. He was doing pull-ups. But he wasn't struggling, or sweating. His face held no emotion, save concentration, and his mouth was held in that same hard line he'd wore when he arrived. It was the way he was doing them that stopped them in their tracks. It was like nothing they'd ever seen. He just did them at a steady pace, legs curled behind him, powering through them like it was nothing. He didn't shake, he didn't stop, it was like he was going for a walk. Up, down, up, down, as if he weighed nothing at all.

"How long's he been doin' those?"

Harry shrugged, "I been watchin' him at least ten minutes now."

"Fuckin' 'ell, look at 'im. Is 'e human?"

"What'd he do to get 'em anyway? He didn't actually light the bushes, did he? Seems a harsher punishment than usual for a first day's infraction."

"He spat in the head warden's face," Charlie said confidently, "And called him a cocksucker." (This was entirely true.)

Several boys laughed, a few whistled. They heard Bert's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and scattered. All but Harry, who stayed at the window, half-heartedly cleaning it and staring on at the amazing sight. He started looking down at his watch and back out at the window.

"Thirty minutes," he said eventually. Somebody giggled.

"You still watchin' him? You want to fuck him or what?"

"Oi, fuck you! It's impressive, is all." Harry kept watching, and kept timing.

The others slowly finished their chores and wandered back to the window, one by one. Eventually there were fifteen in all gathered around, watching.

"Fourty minutes," Harry said.

"Come on, then," Jack said, quietly. Then a bit louder, "Come on then, new kid, let's go for an hour!"

Bit by bit, other boys began cheering as well, until there was quite a din in the hallway, and the excitement in the room was palpable. The whole crowd was riled up.

"Come on, new kid!"

"You can do it!"

"Show 'em, new kid!"

"Fifty-nine minutes, thirty seconds!" Harry shouted and they started to count. None of them even acknowledged Bert's coming up behind them and screaming.

"WHAT THE FUCKIN' HELL IS GOIN' ON TODAY? HAVE YOU ALL GONE BLOODY MAD? WHAT THE FUCK?"

It was no use, no one listened to his protests. All the boys were rapt at the window, cheering and clapping.

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

"Yes!"

"He did it! He did it!"

"RIGHT, THAT'S THE FUCKIN' LIMIT!" Bert blew his whistle and the boys froze. Three guards came running.

"Right boys," Bert yelled, "One bottom-feeder per arm, we're all goin' to solitary!"

An explosion of complaints and protests replaced the earlier joy and excitement as they realized he was completely serious. Those boys who the guards couldn't grab ran as fast as they could toward the education wing - they'd find sanctuary at the library, no doubt. They could always offer to work off their offense there, and the head warden seemed to approve of such an arrangement. Bert didn't much care for the head warden, he was far too soft on this bunch of delinquents and thieves. He glared down at the new kid, still plugging away at his punishment, as the other guards began escorting boys downstairs. This one was going to be more trouble than usual, he was sure of it. He'd be sure to keep an eye on him.

*****

The cafeteria buzzed, as it always did during mealtimes, but there was extra excitement that night. Those boys who had managed to evade solitary had spread the word of the new kid's feats throughout HOB and everyone was talking about it. Suddenly the double-doors to the outside opened, the new kid entered, and conversation stopped.

The kid didn't look tired. He looked somewhat bored. He strolled over to grab a tray, accepted his selection of slop, turned around, scanned for an empty seat, chose one and sat down. Conversation resumed immediately, but many eyes remained on the new kid.

"Good evening, gents," said the new kid, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Did you hear that?" the boy across from him (who happened to be Jack) said to the others at the table, "What's the matter with 'hello'?'"

The new kid shrugged, "What's the point of a language with a large vocabulary if you don't use it?"

The boys looked at each other, confused. The new kid began picking at his food.

"Bloody hell, I saw what you did," the boy to his right (who happened to be Harry) said, "It was amazing! How long were you out there?"

"Two hours," the new kid said, stirring his potatoes, "It was supposed to be one, but I suppose they thought they'd give me another since the first wasn't so bad."

"Wasn't so bad? How the fuck'd you sail through something like that? You don't even look that ripped, no offense mate."

The new kid shrugged again, "Scaled a lot of walls and fences in my time. It's not really much different. Is this…" he held up a piece of grey-ish, shredded meat, "…what is this?"

"We haven't been able to figure it out. Can't even tell if it's beef or chicken or god knows what."

The new kid stared at it for a bit, shrugged yet again, and ate it. He looked thoughtful as he chewed, "Hmph. 'S not bad. Better than rat. Let's hope it's not people, that'd be a downer."

The boy on his left (who happened to be Bilk) snorted, then giggled. The rest began following suit, until the whole table was laughing, including the new kid.

"You're all right, mate," Bilk said, "What's your name?"

The new kid stopped laughing. He stopped smiling. He stared down at his tray for a moment. He cleared his throat and muttered something inaudible.

"What was that?"

The new kid sighed and closed his eyes. He told them his name.

There was about five seconds of silence while the boys tried to figure out if he was joking. Then several things happened in the ten seconds following. The boys began giggling, then outright laughing. The new kid's fists clenched, and then he threw his tray at Jack, sending scalding hot beans into his eyes. Before he could react, Bilk got a fist to the nose and went down cold. Harry, who'd been in the process of saying, "You got a _girl's_ name?" as the new kid was throwing the tray, suddenly found his head put through the table rather effectively. That was when the guards reached the new kid, and dragged him away for the second time that day, kicking and screaming just as before.

The new kid's first night at HOB, and he'd already found himself in solitary.


	2. Rory

Rory Savage was a pale, dark-haired, gangly, tall-for-his-age, incredibly dangerous delinquent who'd made friends with nearly every resident at HOB. He'd discovered early that allies held significantly more value than enemies, and that went double for a place like HOB. It suited him fine - Rory loved having friends, the more the better. He really _liked_ people, he found them absolutely fascinating. He liked watching their different emotional reactions and responses to life, finding out what made them tick, and helping them tick in just that way all the more. Sometimes Rory's friends couldn't quite picture him committing the crimes he'd been sentenced for. He held his own at HOB, certainly, but he was so likable, so easygoing. He never hesitated to defend himself, but he didn't start fights, and even diffused them sometimes, when he wasn't getting any fun out of watching them.

That was the side of Rory that baffled adults to no end - for a boy who seemed so genuinely affable and well-socialized, he seemed to have a strange love of violence, and a strange lack of empathy once he'd engaged in it. They couldn't quite understand that it was all a factor of Rory's liking people - he was just as fascinated by their negative emotions and reactions as their positive ones. Rory's love of people was somewhat akin to a small boy's love of insects - he got just as much joy examining them living happily as he did tearing them apart just to see what would happen. He'd pulled the jobs he pulled because he got genuine enjoyment, and personal satisfaction, out of them - and anyone watching him operate would think he was a pure sociopath. But to his friends, Rory was a trusted, valuable companion.

Rory didn't even see the new kid until the kid's second night at HOB. The kid had been let out of solitary for surprisingly good behavior and polite manners sometime around dinner. Rory figured they'd bunk the new kid in his dorm. Dorm rooms at HOB were six to a room, and his had only five - the bed next to him, the one closest the wall, was empty when he'd arrived. Sure enough, just before lights-out, in he came, a small bag in tow, all the affability from the night before drained from his body. He was scowling, distrustful, sullen - this was the attitude one expected of a new arrival. He threw his bag under his bed, threw himself atop it and glared at the ceiling, seemingly daring it to challenge him. Rory lay on his side, watching him with interest. He'd heard all sorts of things about the new kid by now - news traveled fast at HOB - and he had a strong desire to meet him.

"Oi, new kid," he said after watching the kid breathe angrily at the ceiling for a few minutes, "Rumor has it you shot a pig in the kneecaps - that true?"

The new kid looked over at him, seethed at him a moment, and turned away. Rory tried again.

"'nother rumor has it you got thrown in here for paki bashin'. Seems pretty likely, lookin' at ya' - that true? You one of them skins that's really a Nazi?"

"I'm not a fucking Nazi!" the new kid growled, "Fucking bonehead bastards fucking it up for the rest of us. And I'm not even a fucking skin - I'm a punk…only I don't look it at the moment. And if I ever hear you say paki again I'll smash your teeth in. For your information, I'm in here because a couple of Nazi bastards thought they could get away with talking nonsense like that around me and I gave them a lesson. Now shut up and leave me alone."

Huh. That was interesting information. Gave some Nazis a beating, eh? Rory had never been a fan of people who hated other people - they were the precise opposite of him (though, whether he wanted to admit it or not, they sometimes garnered the same results). He found himself increasingly fascinated with the new kid.

"It true what they say 'bout your name?"

The kid sat up, fists balled, glaring daggers, "What's it to you?"

Rory sat up himself and shrugged, "Only curious. How'd you get a girl's name, anyway?"

The new kid launched himself off his bed and tackled him, shoving him backwards and onto the floor. He got a couple good punches in before Rory fought back. They brawled on the floor a bit, until Rory started laughing and the kid seemed not to know exactly what to do with that. Eventually he stopped punching and got up. He stalked off toward the lavvy, confused and irritated. Rory watched him go, still giggling. The new kid was fun to fight, he knew how to hold his own. He was going to enjoy fighting with him.

*****

The next night, Rory sat at the foot of his bed, studying a chess board and waiting for the new kid. Chess was the only thing of value his father ever taught him, and the only thing he was proud to have learned from him. He liked the strategy of it, and he liked pretending the pieces were alive and watching them slaughter each other.

The new kid appeared in the doorway, the hand of some faceless guard shoving him forward by the shoulder.

"Lights OUT!" the guard emphasized his point with a final shove before shutting off the lights and slamming the door. In the light from the window, Rory could see the new kid flash a V at the closed door before stalking over to his bed and flopping onto it with a loud whump.

Rory set his chess board aside and sat on his bed, staring at the new kid through the darkness. Eventually the kid glared over at him, apparently feeling his stare. Rory grinned at him. The kid sat up and glared harder, already seething.

" _WHAT?_ " he hissed, in a whisper much louder than a normal speaking voice.

"Yknow, I don't even _know_ your name. Only heard it was for girls. What is this girl's name of yours?"

Just as expected, the kid tackled him again. Rory was ready this time, and they traded blows for a good long while.

"You're pretty good at this," Rory said, grinning as he dodged a fist.

"SHUT UP!" the new kid screamed in his face.

"Both of you bloody shut it, it's bloody lights out ya pricks!" someone yelled from beyond Rory's bed.

The new kid grabbed Rory by the shirt and headbutted him. Rory rolled onto his side, clutched his head, and began giggling. The new kid stopped and watched him, bewildered.

"You're a fuckin' loon, you know that?" he muttered. He climbed into bed in his clothes, not even bothering to take off his boots, and turned away from Rory. Rory climbed back into bed as well, still chuckling to himself, until the new kid told him to shut up again.

*****

"I'm not gonna' ask somebody else your name, y'know," Rory grinned at the new kid, who scowled back at him, looking up from the book he was reading. He gave him a steady, threatening scowl, and went back to reading.

"I'm serious," Rory said, "It's a challenge now. If you're not going to tell me, I'm going to have to guess. Erm, let's see…Rhonda?"

The new kid set his book down and seethed at the wall.

"Daphne."

The new kid turned red, but still refused to look at Rory.

"Hrm…Samantha!"

Rory could practically see the waves of anger pulsing out of the new kid, as he finally turned around, his face comically enraged. Rory started giggling. The new kid tackled him once again, and they tumbled over Rory's bed, skidding into the bed next to it and eliciting a, "fuckin' pissheads!" from the kid in it. They ignored him and brawled, Rory's giggle blossoming into a full-throated laugh, the new kid trying like hell to shut him up with his fists. Rory got to his feet and led the kid around the room a bit, the kid catching up with a fist now and then. They made their way between their own beds once again, just as the kid knocked Rory to the ground. He climbed atop him and threw a punch. It missed, slamming into the floor next to the space where Rory's head was moments before he dodged. The kid tried with his other hand, and found much the same result.

"Hold bloody still, you bastard!" the kid yelled.

"Why?" Rory said through his maniacal giggles, "So you can flatten my head? Not half likely."

The kid found himself caught up in Rory's laughter as his attacks continued to miss their target, and Rory could see him trying not to grin, failing a bit every few seconds. Eventually, he threw a swing so hard that when Rory dodged it, the kid somehow made contact with his own face. He stopped short, stunned for a moment, before barking a short laugh of disbelief. Then the kid truly laughed, and Rory found he really liked the way his face lit up when he did. The laugh opened a floodgate, and within moments the kid was laughing as hard as Rory. The kid rolled off of him and lay on the floor beside him, curled up with laughter. He stuck out his hand.

"Vyvyan," he said, barely managing it through bubbles of gasping laughter, "The name's Vyvyan."

"Rory," they shook hands, and let their laughter die down. They lay on the ground, smiling the conspiratorial smile of newly made allies.

"You fucking arseface bastard," Vyvyan said, with more amusement than malice, "You've been trying to get a rise out of me for three days."

Rory shrugged, "Figured it'd be easier than talking to you. You strike me as the sort of bloke who talks with his hands."

"…Was that a fucking pun, you demented fucker?"

Rory shrugged and smirked, and they laughed together again.

"What are you in for?" Vyvyan asked.

"Bank job. It was only my first time! Well, I mean, it wasn't my first time knockin' over a place, but it was my first bank job. The fuckin' pigs were right outside when we left, I don't know how my uncle fucked _that_ up so fuckin' well."

"Lights out!" a hand appeared in the doorway and shut off the light, the guard it belonged to clearly not interested in doing his full job of bed checks before moving on. Vyvyan and Rory watched it go and let their eyes adjust to the darkness before continuing their conversation. Rory grinned.

"How _did_ you get it anyway?"

Vyvyan rolled his eyes, but then shrugged, "My mum just liked it. I heard her tell somebody once that she read somewhere that Oscar Wilde's youngest son was named Vyvyan and thought it was…" he cleared his throat, "…pretty."

Rory snorted a laugh and Vyvyan shot him a glare.

"You want another pop in the nose?"

"Sorry," Rory said, unable to stifle his laughter entirely, "You gotta' admit, it's at least a little funny."

Vyvyan huffed, "I suppose." He looked away, seemingly eager to sink back into sullen.

Rory nudged him, "I'll tell you a secret." Vyvyan looked at him. Rory leaned in and whispered, "My middle name's Herbert."

Vyvyan barked a laugh, "No it isn't," he giggled.

"It is, I swear! We can break into the head warden's office and look it up right now! Named after my uncle, apparently. I wouldn't know, everybody calls him Gin."

Rory had expected a question as to why everybody called him that, and he was all set with a joke ("'cause all he drinks is whiskey"), but Vyvyan didn't respond right away. He sobered, sat up and leaned against his bed, stared at his shoes.

"…What's your family like?"

Rory considered this as he sat up, too. He wasn't sure he'd ever been asked that question before.

"I dunno. Mad and eager for a fight, mostly, I suppose. Most of 'em spend half their time in and out of the clink, guess it was only a matter of time before it was my turn. They're a bunch of arseholes, really, but they're my family; I suppose I love 'em. Except my dad - I hate him."

"Why?" Vyvyan still hadn't looked up.

"…I just do. He's locked up for life…I wish they'd hang 'im."

Vyvyan sat with this for a while before speaking up again, his voice quieter and more tentative than before.

"…What's your mum like?"

Rory went as quiet as Vyvyan. He set his jaw and said nothing for a long time. Finally he looked at his own shoes and spoke up.

"She was great…she was practically perfect. She never hurt nobody, and she was sweet to everybody, and everybody liked her…'cept my dad. …She died a while back."

They sat in heavy, tense silence for a while, until Rory looked back up at Vyvyan.

"What about you? What's your family like?"

"I'm bored," Vyvyan said, standing up and walking toward the door as though Rory hadn't said anything at all, "I'm going to try and find a good spot to smoke around here. You coming?"

"You mad? There's five guards on this floor alone! We ain't even supposed to be up - they'll throw you right back into solitary."

Vyvyan scoffed, "That's nothing. I can handle five guards. I suppose you're too chicken to try it."

Rory jumped to his feet, "I ain't no coward!"

Vyvyan shrugged as he headed for the door, "Come on then."

Rory hesitated a moment, then followed. He grinned; time for an adventure with his new friend, Vyvyan.


	3. The Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will likely be a bit shorter. I initially planned to write a series of scenes as a single chapter, but it's taking me forever and I'm getting impatient since this section is finished. So you get a bunch of little chapters instead!

The boys slinked down the dim hallway, Vyvyan taking the lead, Rory walking cautiously behind him, constantly glancing around for signs of guards. About five feet from the corner, Vyvyan paused, then motioned Rory closer, but kept him steady with a hand. He listened for a few seconds, then nodded and headed toward the corner. They got halfway down the next hallway before the sounds of footsteps stopped them in their tracks. They both cast wildly for cover and settled on a doorway each on either side of the aisle, sinking into the shadows. The footsteps got louder…and then softer. They heaved a sigh of relief, waited a bit longer for any other sounds, and continued on.

It went on like that for ten or fifteen minutes, making their way randomly through the maze of hallways, always staying out of sight and earshot from the guards. Eventually they got to the middle of the building, near the front door.

Vyvyan motioned to his left, "What's that way?"

Rory shrugged, "Education wing. Library, Nurse's Station-"

"Library," Vyvyan said.

Rory nodded and they headed in that direction.

"Why, if you don't mind my askin'?" Rory said quietly as they walked along. Vyvyan shrugged.

"We're less likely to be heard with all those books, and the smoke won't carry as well either."

"Huh," Rory considered this a moment, "It's only, it's funny you'd choose it, lots of blokes hide out there during the day as well. Library's the most staffed room in the building since it's rotatin', and there ain't no librarian, so the staff has the run of the place."

"Why isn't there a librarian?"

"It's the Head Warden's choice, innit? Says boys'll get better rehabilitation through readin' than hard labor, and they should learn how to run it as well. Some blokes really do it - but most of the ones there ain't workin'. They're only hangin' about, hiding out from Bert and his cronies."

"Do any of them _read_?"

Rory scoffed, "Not many, but a few of us. There's all sort of books, all of 'em donated and none of 'em screened. They're supposed to be, but the inspector never checks what the books are, just that there's books. It's all the better for us, we've got books you won't find at no library. What'd the head warden call it? 'Broadening the mind?' That's an odd one, eh? I thought, 'Don't ya have to open up your skull for that?'"

"Not necessarily," Vyvyan approached the library door and looked in through the glass. He paused for a moment, had a listen around the hall and in at the door, and tried the handle. Of course, it didn't budge.

"Where's the key?" Vyvyan cast an irritated glare at the door, Rory, and again at the door.

Rory shrugged, "Last to close is the first to open, that's the rule. Could be anybody."

Vyvyan rolled his eyes and reached into his boot. He pulled out a simple lockpick kit and Rory laughed.

"What?" Vyvyan said, trying to ignore him and focus on the door.

"You just carry that around with you all the time?"

Vyvyan glanced behind him, "What if I come across a locked door like this one?"

Rory nodded to himself, "Hmmm, yeh I can see that."

The lock on the library door clicked and Vyvyan smiled. He opened the door and put his kit away. Then he gestured into the darkened room.

"After you."

Rory sauntered in, and Vyvyan followed, locking the door behind him.

Vyvyan stalked to the back of the library, and headed left toward a window between two shelves. He cracked the window a bit, settled into the corner, and pulled his pack of smokes out of his back pocket. He offered one to Rory, who took it gladly, and then lit one himself. They settled into the quiet of the night, thinking their own thoughts for a bit. Eventually Rory broke the silence.

"Where've they put you? For work, I mean?"

"Maintenance. Supposed to start tomorrow."

"Ah, I used to be over there myself. I'm in janitorial now. Could be worse, and I pick up some shifts 'round here as well."

"How could it be worse, mopping up sick and poo all day?"

"...Bert's head of maintenance."

"...Christ. When do I get to transfer jobs?"

"Six months," Rory shrugged, "I only just transferred end of last month."

"Fuck. Well, I imagine I'll be spending time here as well, then," Vyvyan glanced behind him and pulled down a random book. He looked the cover over and raised his eyebrows, " _The Satanic Bible_?" He looked up at Rory in shock, and Rory grinned and shrugged.

"Told ya'. This is the religion section, over there's fiction, non-fiction, oh and that corner's erotica. That's a posh name for porn with no pictures."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeh! Most of it's just a lot of kissin' and girls thinkin' about blokes a lot, but there's some really nasty nasty in there!"

Vyvyan broke into a huge grin, "Great!" He stubbed his cigarette out on the windowsill, tore _The Satanic Bible_ open (nearly literally in his excitement) and dug in, reading aloud, to Rory's great delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, they're going to be so disappointed when they find out that the majority of _The Satanic Bible_ is just blowhardy philosophy and does not contain a single detailed instruction in human sacrifice. 
> 
> _Justine_ is somewhere in the erotica section though, so that alone should make up for it.


End file.
